


Craig v The Soup Can

by thelotusflower



Category: South Park
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Humor, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, crybaby clyde, cryde - Freeform, dumbasses in love, flufff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27983394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelotusflower/pseuds/thelotusflower
Summary: Clyde is the biggest baby when he is sick, and Craig is trying to be a good boyfriend, but he doesn’t know how to use a can opener.
Relationships: Clyde Donovan/Craig Tucker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	Craig v The Soup Can

**Author's Note:**

> anyways once again thanking jewboykahl for helping me w my inspo writing this and their endless support.
> 
> cryde is realllllll fucking cute u guys im losing my mind

Clyde is the biggest baby when he is sick.

  
He has been texting Craig since first period, nonstop, about every little thing.

**CLYDE:** I’m going to die ):

**CLYDE:** I feel like such shit omg ))):

**CLYDE:** dude I rather be in math class than feel this way fuck

**CLYDE:** craig i’m dyingggggggggggggggg

**CLYDE:** and i’m also really horny ):

Craig sighs at the text messages. His boyfriend is the most _dramatic_ person in the fucking world on his own, but when he is _sick,_ it’s a completely different brand.

He sent all those texts within the span of _five minutes._

**CRAIG:** when aren’t you horny??

**CLYDE:** good point but.

**CLYDE:** I hate u

**CLYDE:** send me a dick pic ):

**CLYDE:** it will help me feel better ):

Craig blushes in spite of himself at the request. He inhales and eyes the teacher, who still has her back turned to the class, busy writing on the chalkboard. He rubs the spot above his eyebrow as he looks down to his phone again.

**CRAIG:** im in class.

**CLYDE:** go to the bathroom

**CRAIG:** to what?? Show you a pick of my flaccid dick? You really want to see that???

**CLYDE:** just think of me and u won’t be bby (((;

Craig shakes his head slightly, peeking to the teacher again before texting his reply.

**CRAIG:** sorry, no, just take medicine and get some rest babe. <3

**CLYDE:** ur a terrible boyfriend )))):

**CRAIG:** not as bad as u.

**CLYDE:** i’d send u a dick pick,,, in fact…

**CRAIG:** DO NOT send me a dick pic… I am in CLASS.

**CLYDE:** that’s now what u said last night bby ((;

**CRAIG:** when I wasn’t in class and I could actually enjoy it???? Yeah.

**CLYDE:** so u did enjoy it tho (((;

Craig bites down on his grin. He eyes the teacher. She has stepped away from the chalkboard now, but doesn’t seem to notice Craig’s phone in his lap. She has her eyes elsewhere — on the other side of the room. He ducks his head down again to text his stupid boyfriend back.

**CRAIG:** you’re dumb.

**CLYDE:** ur gay

**CRAIG:** im done texting u before I get a boner in class, I’ll never forgive u

**CLYDE:** talk dirty bby,, talk dirty ((((;

Craig ignores this one, and tries to focus on whatever the fuck his teacher is saying, but his phone lights up again with another text message a minute later.

**CLYDE:** OR JUST TALK TO ME AT ALL!!!!! I miss u )):::::::: i’m dying

Craig smiles, again; sure that these smiles are going to be what gives him away. He adjusts his lips into a straight line, eyeing the teacher briefly before glancing down at his phone.

**CRAIG:** I love you and I’ll come over after school

**CLYDE:** that’s like 7 hours from now!!!!!!!

**CRAIG:** guess you could past the time and get some sleep???

**CLYDE:** ugh I hate u….. no

x.

For the rest of the day, his boyfriend sends him non-stop texts, even when he does not respond. He sends complaints of hunger, congestion, boredom, and horniness. Craig does his best to answer _some_ of them, but he cannot possibly keep up with _all_ of them.

After school, as promised, he heads to Clyde’s house, but not before stopping to get a surprise for his boyfriend.

His dad is still at work, so Clyde is the one to answer the door.

  
“CRAIG!” Clyde grins, jumping forward and wrapping his arms around him. He pulls him into a tight embrace, nearly cutting off his circulation. Craig tries to resist, but a grin forms onto his face. He lets out a gentle sigh before wrapping the other male into his arms as well. “I missed you,” Clyde mumbles into his shoulder.

Craig shakes his head, “thanks for asking if I wanted to keep my distance, by the way.”

Clyde jumps back at this, eyes wide. “Shit — dude, fuck, sorry —,”

Craig begins to laugh and then cuts his boyfriend off from saying anything else with a kiss to the lips. Clyde immediately relaxes under his touch, his chest falling. Craig pulls away with a small smile, “I was kidding.”

“Dude, you’re dumb, is what you are. You’re going to get sick now.”

Craig shrugs it off and walks inside, his boyfriend moving out of the way. “As if I wouldn’t anyway. You can’t go ten seconds without clinging onto me.”

“That’s not true,” Clyde argues. Although, he realizes quickly after that this situation reflects him poorly, as he he still has his hand on Craig’s arm. He lets it go with a sigh. “Fuck you. _Whatever_.”

Craig laughs and pulls him into another hug, “it’s okay. I like it.”

Clyde lets out a sigh of content while in his boyfriend’s arms, placing his chin on the other’s shoulders. “I feel like shit,” he complains.

“You _sound_ like shit,” Craig says.

“This is what _you_ sound like all the time, so it’s kind of more an insult to yourself, but go off.”

While Clyde’s nasally voice evened out with puberty, Craig’s _did not._ At least _once a week,_ someone asks him if he has a cold.

Craig lets out a grunt of displeasure, which Clyde quickly responds to with, “don’t worry, babe, it’s adorable.”

Craig’s grunt of annoyance turns to a sigh of content at the words and physical closeness of his boyfriend. They hold each other a little while longer before Clyde sneezes and Craig pushes him away, yelling, “gross.”

“I can’t help it!” He whines, eyes half-lid from the previous sneeze. He rubs his nose with his shirt sleeve. “I’m dying. Say your goodbyes… You would hate if your last words to me were mean.”

With a shake of his head, he says, “you are so over dramatic.”

“Dude! I feel like shit,” Clyde says as he tumbles over the couch to fall onto. He lays on in his side, curling into fetal position. “Just leave me here to die, then, why don’t you?”

Craig huffs out a bit of air. He grabs the tissues Clyde forgot by the table entrance and brings them to him, crouching down at eye level. He pulls out a tissue and hands it to him. Clyde grabs it and blows his nose. Craig sets the tissue box on the boys side and presses a kiss to the boy’s head before standing up.

“Do you have any soup?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t figure out the can opener.”

“You don’t know how to use a _can_ opener?”

“Why would I know how!? When do I ever open _cans?”_

“You’re a dumb ass. It can’t be that hard.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you try — wait, you’re making soup for me?” Clyde’s eyes light up. He sits upright on the couch, the tissue box falling off of him. “That’s so cute!”

“Yeah, I’m _cute,”_ Craig confirms, “I’m so cute that I also brought you this,” he pulls his backpack from over his shoulder and digs out a comic-book.

Clyde snatches the comic book from his hands and grins widely, “ _Night of The Living Deadpool?”_ He flips through the pages, the grin on his face making his eyes crinkle. “Wow, you’re the best ever, most amazing, perfect boyfriend in all the land,” Clyde grins up at him.

Craig blushes, as he does under most of Clyde’s over-the-top compliments.

“ ‘Kay,” Craig says, “just take it easy, okay? I’m going to go make you the soup.”

“Will do,” Clyde’s eyes now attach to the pages as he readjusts himself onto the couch, laying down once again, but this time on his back. Craig admires how adorable the excitement on his boyfriend’s face a moment longer before he retreats to the kitchen.

Since he has been coming to the Donovan residence since birth, Craig is rather familiar with where everything is. However, he does not need to even look around to find the abandoned, unopened soup can on the counter. He eyes it, along with the can opener beside it.

He has never used a can opener before, but in all honesty, he really doubts it is _that_ hard to figure out. He picks up the can opener, eyeing it strangely. He notices the sharp circular blade, and figures you _must_ do something with that part. He holds the can, keeping it on the counter, and presses the can opener’s circular blade against the top of the can. He notices that that the handle is sort of like a clamp, so he squeezes it, but nothing happens.

He stares at the thing in confusion.

Okay.

Maybe Clyde isn’t _that_ big of a dumb ass.

He tries to puncture the the top of the metal lid with the blade, but fails in even creating a dent.

_What the fuck._

He shakes his head.

He _will_ figure this out.

“How’s it going, babe?” Clyde calls from the other room.

“Great!” Craig calls back, really, _really_ not in the mood to hear it from Clyde about this.

“I’m hungry! Is it almost done?”

“Yep,” Craig says, putting extra influx on the _p._

He stares at the can and the can opener. He scratches the back of his head in anguish. He once again, tries, and _fails_ , to puncture any kind of hole. He _does_ manage to get a dent in though. He figures that’s _something._

God, what kind of cans didn’t have the tabs anymore? Not that Craig was big into cooking anyway… He probably has made soup one other time in his life, and it was the _one_ time he was left to baby sit Tricia. It was a complete disaster. From then after, his parents asked Tweek to babysit. He thinks his family is a bunch of traitors for hiring his ex-boyfriend over him to babysit his little sister, but luckily, they remained close friends after their weird grade school relationship sizzled out. 

Then it hits him. Tweek bakes all the time — he definitely knows how to use a can opener.

He pulls out his phone to call him. On the second ring, he answers, and after a quick greeting, Craig says, “so… you’ve use a can opener before, right?”

“Uh… yes?” Tweek responds in his ear.

“Can you explain to me how to use one?”

Tweek lets out a bellow of laughter. “You don’t know how to use a can opener!?”

Craig frowns. Maybe this was not as good of an idea as he thought. Tweek is a bastard. “Fuck off, and help me.”

“How about you ask a little more nicely and I’ll _consider_ it?”

Craig pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. He should have just _googled_ it. What was he thinking?

“Will you please help me?”

“Yes. Was that _so_ hard?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh,” Tweek groans. “You’re impossible. Whatever. Do you have a can opener, to start with?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, great,” Tweek relents. “Well, pick it up, and then with both hands, pull the two arms apart,”

Craig follows direction, picking up the _goddamn bastard kitchen tool_. “Fuck, Okay, wait,” he says, placing his phone between his ear and shoulder, and then pulling the two arms apart.

“So, do you see the gap between cutting edge?”

Craig stares at the contraption in his hand. “Yeah.”

“Okay, now place the cutting edge on top of the lid. I hope this isn’t necessary to say… but at the _edge,_ Craig.”

“Yes, I got that,” Craig grumbles, attacking the can opener to the metal lid, “I’m not an idiot, Tweek.”

“Yeah… Sure,” Tweek quips.

Craig rolls his eyes, but restrains any insults. He still needs to get the can open, after all.

“Alright, now close the arms, and you’ll crack it open,”

Craig listens and just as his condescending friend said, the lid punctures open. A smile inflates on his face. “Shit, dude, thanks.”

“You’re not done yet,”

Just as Craig thinks he can get away with needing Tweek’s help, he hears _another_ voice, this one belonging to his boyfriend.

“Craig? Who are you on the phone with?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Craig mumbles. He quickly drops the _stupid fucking garbage can opener_ and grabs his phone to hang up. He shoves his phone into his pocket, and lifts a smile at his boyfriend, “no one, baby. Go back and read your comic.”

Clyde shifts his eyebrows together. He glances around, “where is the soup?”

“It’s… not ready yet.”

Clyde looks over to the unlit stovetop, and then returns his eyes to his boyfriend. “Uh. There is nothing cooking.”

“Uh… yeah. I’m… I was looking for a pot.”

“Oh, well, why didn’t you say so?” Clyde says. He walks over to the oven and opens it, pulling out a pot from the inside. “You know we keep our pots here,” he says as he sets the pot on the stovetop. He turns to face a flushed Craig, and then stares at merely _punctured_ soup can.

Once again, Clyde’s brows shift together.

Craig lets out heavy exhale, his whole body tensing up. He looks away at the ceiling.

“You still haven’t opened it? What the fuck have you been doing in here?”

Just as the question arrives, so does a call from Craig’s hoodie pocket. Craig internally curses Tweek, who he just _knows_ it is.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Clyde asks after a moment of ringing.

Craig pulls it out of his pocket. He glances at the caller ID — sees it’s Tweek, and declines it. “It’s spam,” he lies, swallowing and eyeing his boyfriend.

Clyde, once again, shifts his eyebrows together.

Craig can pull this off. He can finish opening the can — he’s pretty sure he can figure out the rest on his own, and his boyfriend will _never_ know.

His plan goes awry a second later when Clyde’s phone goes off.

_Goddamn Tweek._

Clyde pulls his phone out of his sweatpants and pulls it to his ear. “Hey, Tweek.”

Craig watches and listens as his plan unfolds before him. He can hear Tweek, not only because the blonde _screams_ into the phone, but also because Clyde keeps his volume up to the highest amplification.

“Hey, you’re with Craig, right? He said he was going to your house after school,” he hears the blonde.

“Yeah,”

“Okay, _well_ , tell that _asshole_ that the next time he wants my help, _I’m_ going to hang up on him and ignore his calls.”

Craig closes his eyes, exhaling through his nose.

  
“Uh, okay, okay, will do, will do, but uh, wait… what?”

“He called me to ask how to open a can and then hung up on me! That _bastard_.”

Clyde begins to snicker. Craig opens his eyes to see Clyde laughing at him, looking entirely too pleased with his red nose and puffier than usual face. “You got it, Tweekers.”

Clyde ends the call with a short farewell, and then smirks at his boyfriend. He cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, so _that’s_ why I’m still soup-less. My boyfriend is both a dumb ass, and a liar. Should have known that was the reason.”

Craig sighs again, staring at the dreaded punctured soup can and the dumb kitchen tool next to it. “ _Whatever,_ so I don’t know how to use a _stupid_ can opener. These things are going to be obsolete in, like, ten years because all the cans are just gonna have tabs on them.”

Clyde chuckles and steps forward. “You’re so cute when you’re grumpy,” the brunette pushes a hand through the dark hair of the other male. Craig flicks his big, hazel eyes up to him. “But you’re also _grumpy all the time,_ so you’re really _cute_ all the time.”

Craig shakes his head at the logic, fighting a smile on his face.

“Just go sit the fuck down and let me make this soup for you,” Craig glances at the living room which Clyde came.

Clyde releases a grin and says, “okay, but… You sure you know how to turn on the stove?”

“Fuck off,” Craig laughs, shoving his boyfriend away.

  
Clyde laughs along with him.

“I’m _kidding,”_

Craig huffs out a breath, looking at the slightly taller male. He grabs onto his wrist and pulls him closer, standing on his tip-toes to place a kiss onto the other male’s forehead. “Go read your comic.”

“Will do, but you have to let me go, first,” Clyde smiles, glancing down at Craig’s hand encircled around his wrist.

Craig flushes and lets him go, raising a smile at him.

“You know when _you_ get sick, because let’s be real, it’s gonna probably happen cause, once again, you’re an idiot, I’m just going to go to the store to pick up some pre-made soup. It will be way quicker than this,” Clyde says as he leaves the kitchen.

Craig rolls his eyes, but he is happy to have someone who would want to take care of him sick.

With a turn of his heel, he eyes the punctured, still unopened soup can.

Okay.

Round 2, here he comes.


End file.
